Gotham Hills
by I am hurricane
Summary: On the surface, circus orphan Stiles Grayson is just billionaire Derek Wayne's latest charity case. At least that's what everyone at Gotham Hills Preparatory School dismisses him as. What they don't know is at night he's no charity case. He's the caped crusader's right hand man. But how long will he be able to keep that secret when the new girl in school starts asking questions?
1. Observe and Report

_**Authors Note: This is a mashup of my two favourite stories Batman and Teen wolf. Somebody had to do it after all of the Stiles batman references.**_

 ** _Characters:_**

 ** _Stiles Stilinski as Richard "Stiles" Grayson/ROBIN_**

 ** _Derek Hale as Derek Wayne/BATMAN_**

 ** _Malia Tate as MALIA GORDON/BATGIRL_**

 ** _Alan Deaton as Alfred Deaton/ALFRED_**

 ** _Allison Argent as Alison Crock/ARTIMIS_**

 ** _Scott McCall as Scott West/KIDFLASH_**

* * *

It's a thick smoggy night in Gotham. Steam pours out from sewer grates, and the city's once great business towers and thoroughfares are gritty and crumbling, worn down by time and neglect. It's all darkness and rot, hidden beneath splashes of neon. High above the city streets, perched on a stone gargoyle a young vigilante waits.

"Robin, what's your position?"

The young vigilante grins and touches the communicator in his ear, "Vertical, approximately fifty feet above street-level." He snarks.

"What's your _location_ , Robin?" He rephrases with a slight growly edge to his voice.

"You're telling me that you don't actually know? I always thought my utility belt was chipped or something."

"ROBIN!"

"Roof of the Kane building, West wall, with eyes on Phoenix pharmaceuticals, as instructed, Batman." He reports, with a slight chuckle.

"Anything yet?"

Robin squints through his domino mask and zooms into the building with his night vision binoculars. He rolls his eyes as he finds Dr. Kent Wessler exactly where he left him, sitting at his desk going through a small mountain of paperwork.

"Pfft—this guy is about as interesting as wallpaper. I've been tailing him all day and nothing—nada. You sure this is our guy?"

"According to my informant he's been providing the East Side Dragons with BLIS."

"BLIS?" He repeats, his fist clenching around his binoculars. "Well then I guess wallpaper just got a whole lot more interesting." He grits out through his teeth. He'd had a run in with a couple teenagers high on BLIS a few weeks back he'd gotten them to the hospital but…they didn't make it.

"Keep a cool head, Robin." Batman reprimands, "When the exchange happens, you observe and report, that's it. Whatever happens you don't give up your position. Is that clear?"

Robin lowers his binoculars, glowering through his domino mask, "Observe and report, I got it." He says, in a short clipped voice, while cracking his knuckles.

The wind whistles along the rooftop, ruffling through his hair, his long black cape billowing around him. A car horn blares from the street below, and Robin tears his eyes away from the plate glass widows of Kent Wessler's office. A figure darts out into the busy street, her movements sleek and controlled as she dodges cars. She clears the street and ducks down a dark alleyway. Robin cocks his head, curious. His eyes flick back to Wessler, _he still hasn't left his desk._

He chews on his lip indecisively for a moment before he jumps down off the stone gargoyle and moves further down the ledge of the roof. Lifting his night vision binoculars he zooms in on the alley, and spots the girl. She leaning her shoulder against the wall, her eyes studying the watch on her wrist. Robin cocks his head to the side as he watches her. His eyes appraise her slowly, she's wearing tight ripped jeans, scuffed motorcycle boots, and a leather jacket with the faded imprint of a running coyote. She's got her long brown hair, trapped under a thin red scarf. Which doesn't make sense because It's still august.

Robin squints, "What are you up to, huh?" He wonders allowed.

His eyes follow her with interest as she slips off the wall and crosses the dark alley, stopping in front of a wide metal door, on the east wall of Phoenix Pharmaceuticals. Robin tenses on his toes, "Bad idea, coyote-girl." She reaches into her pocket pulling out a phone and hooks up a cable to the keypad on the door. "Don't do it, don't do it." He warns. Numbers cycle across the screen of her phone before the light on the keypad turns green. Robin runs a hand through his hair, "And you did it, you actually did it." She unhooks her phone and tugs the scarf up to her nose covering her face, before turning the handle and slipping inside.

Robin straightens up, stalking back along the ledge of the roof to the stone gargoyle. "Batman, we have a serious problem." He reports touching his ear. He winces as his ears are filled with nothing but the rush of static. Robin shakes his head. "Batman, are you reading me? Batman?…Alfred I need a twenty on Batman…Alfred? Alfred come in." Robin yowls suddenly tearing the communicator from his ear as it blares with audio feedback.

"Damnit!" He snarls rubbing his ear. His eyes dart to Wessler's office and he freezes when he sees that Wessler is gone. A chill runs down his spine, "NO!NO!NO!" He scans the building floor by floor, with his binoculars. He blows out a breath when his eye land on Wessler, until he sees three goons with guns forcing him along the hallway. He swallows hard when he sees them reach the express elevator. They hit the button for floor eighteen. Robin counts floors and scans floor eighteen. The floor is dark except for a flicker of light in one of the offices. He zooms in and spots someone in the light of a computer screen. Magnifying he sees that its the girl in the red scarf. "Really, Coyote-girl? Really? You are so not helpful right now." Robin clips his binoculars onto his utility belt and steps out onto the edge of the gargoyle's head. He has about ten seconds of indecision before he shakes his head.

Licking his lips his eyes dart back and forth, judging the distance between buildings. He isn't close enough. "Ah, crud. This is a bad idea, Robin." he berates himself, as he leans off the edge of a fifty-foot drop with nothing but a sea of traffic and concrete below.

Unclipping his grappling gun he backs up a few feet then launches himself into a run, diving off the building and firing the grappling gun, in mid-air. As he free falls, the air rushes through his hair, whipping through his cape, his heart throbbing with adrenaline. This isn't what a typical teenager gets up to on a school night. But as the grappling hook finds it's mark, and the wire catches, propelling Robin toward Phoenix pharmaceuticals, Stiles Grayson has to admit he was born for this.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	2. Gothamgirl

Malia grins beneath her red bandana as she steps back to admire her work. Giving the aerosol can in her hand one more shake she leans in and adds the finishing touch. She turns and gives the security camera that she'd deactivated earlier a one fingered salute, and sets the spray paint can down on the polished mahogany desk.

Slipping around the other side of the massive oak desk, she leans in to check the status bar on the screen. She bites her lip as she notices that it's still hovering at around the seventy-three percent mark. She huffs through her bandana and drums her fingers on the desk, "C'mon — _c'mon_ ," she mutters.

Light flares against the corner office's glass walls and Malia's eyes dart up toward the hallway. Malia curses right as the elevator chimes and the doors roll open, flooding the hallway with light. She makes a dive for the desk but she doesn't quite make it. Instead she slams face first into a solid wall of muscle that materializes out of nowhere. Before she can make a sound a gloved hand clamps down over her mouth and she finds herself wedged between a bookshelf and a hard body.

Her training kicks in and on instinct she starts to draw up her knee. But before she can so much as twitch she finds herself spun so that she's practically kissing the wall, with her assailant pressed up against her back. He's got her feet braced apart and her arms pinned against the wall. She jerks against his grip and tries to bite the hand covering her mouth, but she can't really clamp down on the synthetic material.

The body behind her leans in and whispers in her ear, "Easy, coyote-girl. I'm trying to save you're damn life."

Then very gently the hand covering her mouth, eases it's grip and he tilts her chin to the side so that she can peer around the bookshelf and see the through the office's glass wall. Two large thugs with automatic weapons are just outside the glass hustling a distraught looking Kent Wessler down the hall. The gunmen seem to be arguing about something as they move down the hall, speaking in some harsh-sounding slavic dialect. One of them swings their flashlight and it cuts through the darkness, glancing over the office wall.

The man behind her pulls her back into the shadow of the bookshelf and flattens himself against her back, covering her. Malia holds her breath, her heart racing as the flashlight glides back and forth along the office wall. But the heartbeat at her back is incredibly steady, so much so that it's distracting.

As the voices start to fade down the hall they stay pressed up against the bookshelf. It's stiflingly warm with him so close. His chest rising and falling against her back, his every shallow breath tickling her ear. They stay like that for another full minute until it's so quiet that all they can hear is each other's breathing. Then his hands slip down off of her and he steps back. Malia shoves herself off the wall and spins, taking a swing at him, "You son of a—" she snarls. He deflects her fist and catches her in a wrist lock before she can make another move toward him.

Malia freezes as her eyes adjust to the faint light of the city streaming in through the windows. Standing less than three feet in front of her in red and dark green kevlar body-armour was Robin, the dark knight's apprentice. Malia blinks.

"The words I think you're grasping for, are _thank you_ ," he quips, as he arches an eyebrow at her beneath his domino mask.

Malia's lips flutter as she tries for words. She'd only ever seen Batman and Robin in blurry pictures online or in the grainy old newspaper clippings that her dad collects. But all those pictures now seem glaringly out of date. Because she definitely doesn't remember the boy wonder ever looking this hot. She wants to kick herself as soon as she thinks it, especially when he's got her cornered. But it's true. The boy in those old pictures may have been incredibly agile, but he'd also been scrawny and short.

The one towering over her now was anything but. He was all broad shoulders and lean muscle. Seemingly taking pity on her he flashes her a glint of a smile and releases her wrist. He steps back lithely, lifting his hands up in a surrendering fashion. Malia draws her wrist into her chest. Her fingers numb and tingling.

"Okay, I think we got off on the wrong foot here," he says sheepishly. Then his eyes cut to the tag spray painted across the office's back wall. "Wait, you're Gothamgirl287?" he looks her up and down as if reassessing her, "the hacktivist?"


End file.
